


Even These Stars

by runicmagitek



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: A+ Parenting, Alcohol, Angst and Feels, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Mid-Canon, Missing Scene, Promises, Team Bonding, implied/referenced trauma, spoilers for s1e7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22603375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: And when he spoke, his voice held the same, bittersweet nostalgia that saturated Cara’s recollection, “We’re not so different, you and I.”Before they leave for Nevarro, Cara contemplates the past and the Mandalorian has a request.
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Even These Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sasha_b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/gifts).



As much as Sorgan was a nice retirement spot, nothing beat the view in Arvala-7. No trees blocking the night sky and fewer clouds veiling the myriad stars and smears of colorful galaxies blending with pitch black. Cara reclined on her makeshift perch—a stack of forgotten crates—and marveled at the spectacle she took for granted. Every planet had stars, after all, so why bother? There were bigger matters to focus than a pretty view. The Rebellion, for one. Staying alive in general, too. But right now? Now Cara desired to drink, relax, and not contemplate tomorrow.

She breathed out a chuckle. Yeah, considering _his_ track record, she doubted this plan would go as anticipated. Probably why he enlisted her help. Besides, it was an excuse to see that adorable kiddo’s face.

Cara took a swig from her jar. Whatever Kuiil concocted, it beat the brew at the common house on Sorgan. _Need to get me a few for the road,_ she mused. The bottle once served to drown her overloaded sensations and forget what had transpired. Everyone in the Rebellion had their share of baggage, but Cara preferred to drop it in the middle of an ocean. But there was no more Rebellion and the weight from her sore shoulders lifted day-by-day. Cara swished the milky amber liquid in its container; she liked to believe she drank out of joy, to honor a hard day instead of erasing it.

She _definitely_ didn’t want to forget any of this.

Soft footsteps shuffled across the sand. She raised an eyebrow mid-sip and peered back to catch a glint of beskar. Then she grinned.

“Couldn’t sleep, either?” she called out, mindful not to yell. No sense in waking up the child or the blurrg sleeping in their pens.

The stars and dim exterior lamps provided minimal lighting, yet was enough to outline the bounty hunter who corralled her into this crazy mess. He looked to her… or at least he was angled to face her. Hell if Cara knew where his gaze fell. If _she_ was a Mandalorian, no doubt she’d make silly faces at people who pissed her off. Maybe when this mission was finished, she’d ask him if he ever did that. Maybe.

When he didn’t answer, Cara lifted her jar in his direction. “Your friend knows how to make a good drink.”

“He’s not a friend,” he said as dry as the desert they inhabited.

“An associate? Hired hand? Whatever the case, he’s good in my book. I’ll take this over ration packs any day.”

He lowered his head. Cara held her tongue and waited. Nothing. Well, that was par for the course.

“The kid doing alright?” she asked, hoping a change of topic would loosen his tongue.

“It’s asleep,” he eventually replied.

“Read him a nice bedtime story?”

He brought his attention to her and Cara snorted behind her glass.

“Hey,” she said, “I’m glad it’s been keeping you out of trouble.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he muttered.

“Kid must mean a lot if you’re willing to do all of this.”

He shrugged. “Don’t have much of a choice.”

Cara paused. She couldn’t recall why she had scouted the woods, but the sniper she discovered earned that blast through the skull. The Guild was never going to stop until the asset was reclaimed. And the kiddo’s stubborn ass dad wasn’t giving up until every last one was taken care of.

“Well,” she drew out, polishing off the rest of her drink, “we got a solid crew.”

The sound he made was somewhere between a scoff and a groan—unfavorable, nonetheless. Cara tried not to roll her eyes.

“Really?” She pushed herself to seated, one arm perched on a bent leg while peering down at him. “You’re not letting go of this anti-droid crap?”

His shoulders tensed. “You weren’t there,” he said, calm, yet firm. “That droid attempted to kill the child.”

“Yeah, well, that same droid made us some pretty decent tea, so… maybe you two should kiss and makeup or whatever?”

“Not happening.”

“Wow. You’re really something, Mando. Half of this galaxy relies on droids and you’d rather shoot yourself in the foot than look at one. What could a droid possibly do to make you hate them?”

He pivoted away, though didn’t retreat inside. Not yet. “The droid’s not coming.”

She sighed and smacked her face. “Kuiil reprogrammed it, Mando. What else do you want—”

“Nothing,” he spat out, “will suffice.” He paused. “You agreed to this at the first mention of an ex-Imperial warlord.”

Cara clenched her jaw. “And?”

“What’s so different, then? I hate droids, you hate Imperials.”

“Difference is you can’t reprogram humans without resorting to manipulation and brainwashing. People _chose_ to follow the Empire. Droids? They can only follow what their creators intend for them to accomplish. And yeah, there are malicious people out there, but that doesn’t mean all good is gone.” She skimmed her thoughts and inhaled. “What about the village we saved? What about those kids? Or Omera?”

Silence settled between them. Cara smiled slightly at that small victory.

“And you trust Kuiil, right?” she asked. “So why not trust this droid?”

He shook his head. “It’s complicated.”

Cara snorted. “Tell me about it. That’s life for you.”

He looked over his shoulder. In reply, Cara smirked and shrugged. She half expected him to leave her to her stargazing, but it was a pleasant surprise when he turned to join her, angled against a separate stack of crates.

Cara leaned in his direction. “So?”

“What?”

“This is the part where you tell me your beef with droids.”

She heard him huff out an exasperated sigh. “It’s a long story.”

“I like long stories.”

He looked at her. She smiled innocently, just for him.

“Another time,” he grumbled.

“You’re no fun.”

“Never said I was.”

The wind filled the silence looming in the desert. Cara eyed the stars again.

“Mine’s not,” she said after a moment.

“What?”

Cara toyed with the rim of her glass. “Not a long story,” she explained. “Imperial forces killed my family. Had to grow up damn fast if I wanted to live. Then I joined the Rebellion, because I was angry and that’s what you did when you were young and stupid. I might not have seen much action until the end, but I saw plenty of my friends not return from missions. And saw just as many die.” Cara lifted the glass to her lips, only to sigh softly upon remembering she had finished it. “Same as everyone else. Nothing special.”

She collapsed into the nest she had made on top of the crates. The netting and stuffed supply bags proved to be more comfortable bedding than any cot from her Rebellion days. Coupled with the cool breeze and peaceful view, it was bound to ease her to sleep.

She blinked and hated what memories emerged. Blasters hammered in her ears, overpowering pained screams begging for help. Not enough people to turn the tides; it was only her and the other shock troopers sent in, after all. She wasn’t sure which was worse: the high expectations with minimal resources or the forgotten deaths of allies in favor of political agendas. Cara breathed, mindful of the air filling her lungs. She cherished the breath her friends no longer shared with her. She lived when they couldn’t… and she left.

_Typical,_ she kept to herself. _Nothing_ _’s changed, has it?_

Then he spoke and Cara missed it. “What was that?” she asked.

He didn’t repeat himself instantly. He looked at the same sky Cara admired since the sun sank in the distance.

And when he spoke, his voice held the same, bittersweet nostalgia that saturated Cara’s recollection, “We’re not so different, you and I.”

The quiet words skewered her. Cara forgot to breathe. She stared at him, waiting for him to do anything to elaborate or smother the sensation he ignited in her. But she didn’t _need_ him to say more. She understood all too well.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured after a bout of silence.

He didn’t reply. In their short time together, she learned that was the better outcome in comparison to others he was capable of. Truth be told, she found comfort in the shared silence—the closest notion to a heartfelt hug or what she remembered one feeling like. Was it in the Mandalorian creed to exchange pleasantries like that? Maybe the proximity would warrant paranoia over their prized helmets being removed. The thought brought forth a smile despite the twinge of sadness coloring the moment.

“I just want the kid safe,” he said, almost quiet enough for his voice to be lost to the intermittent breeze.

“Yeah,” Cara agreed. “And we will.”

Another sound surfaced from him—either he hummed or grumbled and honestly she didn’t bother to tell the difference anymore. Still, it garnered her attention. Even more so when he focused on her instead of the stars.

“Good,” he said. “We’re on the same page. I like that.”

“What are you getting at, Mando?”

“I came out here to ask you something.”

“Now?”

He audibly sighed. “I wasn’t sure how to approach you… or even if I _should_.”

“Oh please, after what we’ve been through? Really? Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s a relief. Can’t be anything _that_ stressful. What could possibly—”

“If something were to happen to me, I want to entrust the kid in your care.”

Cara stared, lips ajar and eyes wide. Whatever words she intended for him died in her dry throat. Millions of thoughts boiled to life, each one begging to be screamed into the night for the other end of the galaxy to hear. But it quieted and her racing heart slowed and her muscles softened.

“Why me?” she asked, despite knowing the answer.

“Because I don’t have a lot of other options.” When Cara didn’t reply, he continued, “I know this wasn’t a part of our initial deal, but I’ve been running through the possibilities… and I’d want you to take care of it if I—”

“No.”

In better circumstances, she might have been amused by the way he jerked back, his body language glaring at her despite the helmet masking his features. “What?”

“First off, you think I’m going to let you go dying on me? Nuh-uh. Not on my watch. As far as I’m concerned, I’m here to make sure your metal butt lives through this mess so you can keep parenting your kiddo. So if something _does_ happen to you? I’m probably gone by that point, because I can’t save you if I’m dead.”

“Cara—”

“I know more people who are dead than ones I can call a friend,” Cara hissed, ignoring the prickle behind her eyes. “You are _not_ going to be another tally looming over me. Don’t come waltzing into my life just so you can march to your death. We can do this, Mando. We’re going to end this and keep the kid safe.”

They held each other’s gaze. The same, expressionless visage met Cara’s stare, yet was more intense than before. What was he doing behind all of that? Scowling at her? Rolling his eyes? Possibly furrowing his brow in thought? Damn it, not knowing gutted her more than his request. Part of her wanted to rip his helmet off to satiate her curiosity, but she didn’t dare. That was like the stories she heard of Imperial troops burning off the prized ink all shock troopers wore.

_We_ _’re not so different, you and I._

“The kid will be safe,” he echoed, albeit it a touch… reluctant? Cautious? Defeated? Hell if she knew.

“ _We_ _’ll_ keep it safe,” she added for emphasis.

He nodded a beat later. Cara smiled. _Good as done,_ she thought.

A gentle coo filtered through the air. Both broke away to peer below. As if on cue, the child meandered towards them. Its ears perked up as it reached for the Mandalorian.

“I thought someone was supposed to be asleep?” she asked.

He sighed and Cara smirked.

“Wishful thinking.” He bent to the child’s level to scoop it up. “You need to sleep.”

“Maybe it wants another bedtime story.”

He looked to Cara, paused, then turned to the child. “I’m not a storyteller.”

“Pfff, neither am I, but hang around enough canteens and you hear plenty of exaggerated dramatics to fill an archive.” Cara vaulted off her perch and landed beside them. “Come on, let’s get your kid to bed.”

“With a drunken brawl tale?”

“Hey, cool it, Dad; I can make it kid-appropriate.” She wiggled a finger at the child. “What do you say, kiddo? Want to hear something fun before beddy-byes?” In response, the child clung to her finger. “Guess it’s time for one of Auntie Cara’s tales of ancient knights and their epic adventures.”

“You’re _not_ its aunt.”

“And you’re technically not its dad, but here we are.” She freed her finger and swiped her empty jar. “I’ll be inside whenever you’re ready.”

She ducked into Kuiil’s home and navigated through the dark space. Stacks of dishes from supper lingered in the meager sink and Cara added her glass to the pile. She took a mental note to help Kuiil with last-minute chores before their departure in the morning. Instead of collapsing into her bedroll where the dining table had been, she strolled into a tool closet re-purposed as a guest room for the child.

Sitting on a toolbox, she waited. In time, the Mandalorian joined her with a restless child in hand. She smiled while he tucked the young one into its new hover crib, complete with handwoven blankets. For someone as deadly as him, he displayed a tender side Cara didn’t expect. He smoothed the blankets over the child with a feather-light touch, patting its head upon completion. Once he situated himself beside the hover crib, he offered the child a finger to latch onto.

Then he tilted his head to Cara, as if expecting her to pick up where he left off.

And she did.

Her story wasn’t spectacular—just a typical fairytale all parents told their kids about Jedi and the days of the Old Republic. But her mother had a way of making those jaded stories come to life. Cara had waited all day to hear them. She begged for more until she passed out midway. And with how the child stared at her with awe? Who was she to say no?

Combined with the aforementioned theatrics, she wove a narrative impressive enough to hold the child’s attention. Its ears drooped while it nodded off, struggling to stay awake to hear more. Cara improvised the fantastical warrior’s journey, embellishing details for the sake of a coo and ear twitch. And when the child closed its eyes and slumped into its cocoon of blankets, Cara stilled her tongue and smiled.

The shadows on his helmet shifted, the slight movement reminding Cara she wasn’t alone.

“You good?” he murmured.

She nodded, not wishing to wake the child.

After freeing his finger, he exited the room with Cara. They found their bedrolls stretching the length of the room. Cara collapsed with a sigh; her muscles throbbed and eyelids felt like dead weights. He slowly lowered himself to the ground, propping up multiple pillows to lean into. What starlight spilled through the meager windows reflected off his armor.

When she believed him to be asleep, he sighed and turned to her. “What?”

“You really don’t take it off, do you?”

He returned to center. “Nope.”

“I was wondering….”

Silence. Not a bad thing.

“The beskar,” she continued.

“What about it?”

“I used to think it was made-up. Just another fairytale.” No response, so she proceeded. “I heard it was as rare as a Mandalorian.”

“And?”

“And here you are, wearing a full suit of beskar.”

More silence. Cara exhaled and prepared to roll over. Then he spoke and she almost missed it.

“It was in exchange for the child.”

She peeked past her shoulder. He said nothing more. He didn’t have to. Cara pieced together the mental puzzle and when she discovered the bigger picture, she grinned, nuzzled into her pillow, and welcomed dreams of Jedi from a better time.


End file.
